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Eleanor smoothed her fingers over the blade against her hip. Safely hidden from view by her woolen shawl, it was in easy reach should she need it. At least that was the manner Seamus had told her to wear it, considering he was meant to be a man of God, Eleanor had found it amusing the day he had shown her how to hide a small dirk, and how to use it. She had not understood then. She understood now. As she waded carefully through the river, reveling in the thigh high water, she remembered him, the minister of the Kirk. Seamus had cared for her mother, Criostiona, after she had wandered into the village. He was the only person her mother had spoken to. That first night in his care, as he had tended her wounds, eased her pains, Criostiona had confided information to him. And then she spoke no more. Not even to Eleanor. A living husk, Criostiona had hardly been able to look at her. For the 16 years before she died, Eleanor believed truly, that she knew nothing of her mother. Perfect. Sandy looked to be in her mid-twenties. She had blonde hair in a short cut and green eyes. She was wearing a simple white knit top and purple capris."Jason needs some rest and I'd like for you to stay with him. I think he's fine but head trauma can be tricky. Find an empty bedroom where he can lie down for a bit and keep an eye on him," the doctor said.I started to protest, but Sandy stepped up and said, "You do look a little pale; come on and we'll fix you up." I had to admit, without the guns and the scowl of concentration that came with them, Sandy was seriously cute. I got to my feet and followed her very athletic looking buns deeper into the suite. "This will do," she said after peeking into one of the guest rooms.The room had a bath, a television and a writing desk with chair. As Sandy pulled the curtains closed to put the room into twilight, I piled up a couple of pillows on the double bed and lay down. I watched as Sandy turned the desk chair in my direction. "You're really.
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